STAR WARS REBELS || Her Wings Of Fire

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Memories Both New And Old

*You see that pic? YOU SEEEEE?!?! THIS is one of several reasons why I should not be allowed on the internet. I find this sort of stuff and go insane and then try to fit it into the plot of my fanfics somewhere.*

"I need to use the 'fresher!" Sorena yowled, trying to make her voice as plaintive and noticeable as possible. "Let me out!"

That was a lie, of course. If they actually fell for it, Sorena knew she would be very let down, and wonder just how much the Empire had over-exaggerated the crew's abilities. It was just another part of her plan to distract the crewmembers that were still while she did her work.

Because even if she couldn't free herself from where she was, she could still cause a fair amount of mischief.

"Will you quit your whining?" the Twi'lek pilot of the ship, Hera Syndulla, yelled back over the ship's internal comm system. "You're a grown woman, for crying out loud! Hold it in! I do not have the time to baby you right now, not with the hyperdrive about to–"

For a moment, all was quiet aboard the ship. But then, loud enough so that Sorena could hear it without the comm, an enraged cry echoed throughout the ship: "CHOPPER!"

Sorena couldn't help herself – a low chuckle escaped from between her lips. "Oh, dearie me, Chopper," she murmured, "there really is nothing you can do right today, is there?"

Smiling to herself, she pushed the metal panel she had removed from floor back into place, and began taking apart the pair of tiny wire cutters in her hand.

Suddenly, the comm crackled to life again. "Chopper, get ready to redirect the power through the conduits under the ship back up towards the hyperdrive – we're gonna have to try this whole thing again!"

Oh, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into, Sorena thought, settling back on the pallet and blanket she'd been provided with to watch the show unfold, well clear of the panel.

Sure enough, hardly a few moments later, there was a loud zapping noise as the cables she had just cut short-circuited, and thin tendrils of smoke began rising up from between the tiny gaps in the metal flooring.

Sorena smirked as the ship's lights flickered once, before going out entirely.

"You should have let me go to the 'fresher when you had the chance," she said, smiling into the darkness.

Despite the ysalamiri oil, she could sense Hera's anger plainly. She breathed deeply, basking in it. Although she had fair reserves of hatred she could call upon to fuel herself if she so wished, the negative feelings from other beings only made the Dark Side of the Force stronger; and, as a result, made her stronger.

But she wasn't finished yet – she had to clean up after herself first. The two sharp little blades from the wire clippers she placed on either side of the red stone in her headband, clicking them back into their places so they looked merely decorative. The handles turned into extra buckles near the tops of her boots, and she tucked the screws under her beskar shoulder guards.

As she stuffed the pivot down her bodice to a small pouch designated to hold it, she smiled. Just the thought of a fulcrum and clothes brought back some pretty embarrassing – but funny – memories about the time she had spent with Lux.

Because after all, even he was the Rebel informant Fulcrum today, there had been a time when things had been so much simpler than a Darksider and a Jedi. And even if she hated him now, there had been a time when things had been quite the opposite...

Sorena shook her head, shooing the thought away. The present was all that mattered now, and it was best to keep the past under lock and key, as always. The only thing that she allowed to remain was her hatred. Hatred that she'd been abandoned; hatred that no one had come looking for her save the man whom she had thought was her enemy, but had really turned out to be a friend and someone she could trust completely.